Love is a Mystery
by Epic F. Awesomesauce
Summary: Ludwig is just your normal police detective until one day he is hit by the shocking news that his friend Feliciano has suddenly committed suicide. Unable understand why Feliciano would do it, Ludwig takes the case and finds much more than he thought he would. CONTAINS SLASH-don't like it, don't read it. :P
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Ludwig stares in shock at his commanding officer. There is one tiny, nearly nonexistent part of him that is vaguely happy that he and Feliciano had managed to keep the fact that they know- or is it knew, now?-each other a secret-but, that part is infinitesimally small. Most of him is completely and totally occupied with just one thought: Why did he do it? No, that's not right, more of a **WHY DID HE DO IT?!** He just can't understand. Why had Feliciano-happy, optimistic, and-at the risk of sounding bromantic-almost adorable Feliciano committed suicide?

"Ahem," coughs his commanding officer. "I take it you knew this man?"

Ludwig regains his exterior composure, though his interior is slowly melting. "I had heard of him; this is, after all, a rather small village. I had heard he was rather bright and happy, almost annoyingly so. I can't quite understand what would bring him to do something like this."

His commanding officer nods. "That's exactly what I thought when I heard he'd thrown himself of The Cliff, which is why I have decided to have you investigate the incident. I feel like there must have been other circumstances that we didn't know about-debt collectors or some such thing. Do your best to find out. Dismissed."

Ludwig gets up from his chair, salutes, then leaves the room, in shock. When he ends up on the street outside the police office, he doesn't even remember how he got there. Images of Feliciano-smiling, happy, laughing, painting-flash through his head in fragmented images and he feels his eyes tearing up. Quickly, before anyone can see, he swipes a hand across his eyes, straightens up, clears his throat, and starts walking to Feliciano's house, which is the best place to start looking.

The walk to Feliciano's is one that Ludwig has traveled many times. In fact, if anyone had ever figured out just how many times, they would have thought he was dating the resident. No one had figured it out, though. Taking a different way there nearly every time made sure of that, even if Ludwig did stand out.

Walking past the snow-covered, old-fashioned houses, Ludwig feels a rush of grief fall over him like a tidal wave. How many times had he watched Feliciano paint these houses on a blank white canvas, in spring, summer, fall, winter, and everything in between? Too many to count, not that he had ever bothered counting them. The one thing he didn't try to order was his time spent with Feliciano; he could remember every second of it anyway.

Ludwig shoves his hands in his coat pockets and hunches his shoulders against the cold, sleet flecked wind that has just started blowing. He briefly wonders to himself why he hadn't thought to bring his gloves with him, and then remembers that he doesn't remember even leaving. When he finally reaches Feliciano's house, he stops in front of it, staring hopelessly at it's dark, empty windows. For once, the smell of cooking tomato sauce does not come floating through the windows of the barely-remodeled barn, and no Feliciano comes out to greet him, wooden, sauce-covered spoon in one hand, paint-covered brush in the other.

Ludwig trudges forlornly up the path, kicking slush out of his way. Normally in the winter Ludwig came over and shoveled this path every day, just one of his many excuses to see Feliciano, he can now admit to himself. Feliciano wasn't so used to the snow, and he rarely went outside except to take a picture to paint off of, so Ludwig was the one who took care of things like shoveling the snow off the sidewalk and throwing salt on the ground so that no one would slip.

Reaching the door, Ludwig knocks, purely out of habit. As soon as he does, he finds himself waiting to hear light footsteps racing down the stairs leading to the second story loft. When he doesn't hear them, tears come to his eyes yet again, and once again he wipes them away.

_ I'm not sure I can do this,_ he thinks to himself_._ Taking a deep breath, he grabs the door handle and turns, unconsciously noting how strange it feels to open the door himself. He shakes his head to clear it of those thoughts and steps into the barn. It's as cold inside as it is outside, and smells faintly of tomatoes. He steps just over the threshold and breathes in deeply, searching for the familiar scent of Feliciano. He smells nothing except gray snow and fresh paint.

_ Paint? Fresh paint?_ Suddenly Ludwig's shoulders straighten up almost of their own accord. He finds himself stumbling forward frantically, dragging his hand along the wall for a light switch. Finding it, he flicks it on and stumbles up the stairs to the second story loft, Feliciano's makeshift studio. Once up there, he flicks on another light (seeing all the while in his mind's eye how it looks, lights flicking on in a dead man's house) and looks toward where Feliciano usually keeps the paintings he has in progress. Instead of the usual three to five canvases, there is only one, arranged so that the overhead light shines directly on it like a spotlight. Ludwig slowly, apprehensively walks forward, part of him wanting to run toward the painting, part of him wanting to leave the barn, and another part of him wanting to curl up in a corner and cry like a child.

Once in front of the picture, he really does start to cry, if only a little. The scene is a familiar one to him, The Cliff in midsummer, colorful and flooded with sunlit flowers. He and Feliciano had picnicked there many a summer day, bringing sausage sandwiches and laughing. Smiling through his tears at the memories, he looks towards the bottom lefthand corner, where Feliciano usually hides his name in the painting. To his surprise, he doesn't see the familiar signature. He looks closer, wondering at this. Feliciano always signs-signed-his paintings, so why not this one? He stares at that corner for so long the individually drawn blades of grass start to blur out of focus.

_Hey_, he thinks absently to himself,_ that sort of looks like an "f"_- He jerks upright with shock, suddenly realizing why there's no signature._ Feliciano left me a message!_ Crouching down so that he can see better, he tries to decipher his friend's hidden message for him.

** Flowers**, is spelled out in Feliciano's neat brushstrokes. Ludwig sits back on his heels, utterly confused._ Flowers? What does that mean?_ He thinks, possibly for a while longer than he needs to (he just can't get images of Feliciano out of his head) until finally he realizes what the message means._ Flowers! Of course! The bouquet of wildflowers I gave him on his birthday last fall!_ Newly energized, Ludwig jumps to his feet and races down the loft stairs, skipping the bottom three or four in his haste._ Where would Feliciano keep something like that?_ he asks himself as he runs. After coming up with a blank, he just goes to his friend's room, thinking he might've kept them there even as they wilted and shed their petals all over his floor.

He stops as soon as he is over the threshold as the fractured, drunken memories flood over him. New Year's Eve had seen him and Feliciano adjourning to this room, to this bed. Drunk, with the lights off, it had seemed so right to lay down in this bed and kiss his friend-no, that night, Feliciano was not a friend; he was a lover. They had kissed, taken their clothes off, gotten themselves stuck in the blankets, and that was as far as Ludwig's drunken memory stretched. When Ludwig had woken up the next morning, before the hangover had set in, he had looked down at Feliciano, who was wrapped in his arms. He had been smiling in his sleep, the sunlight shining through the window making him glow like an angel.

Ludwig shakes his head to clear it, then steps into the room, flicking on the light in here as well. Instantly he sees the flowers, right where he expected them to be: in a clear glass vase, sitting on a bedside table. Feliciano must have dried them to preserve them, because it seems as if they still have all their petals. He slowly walks over and picks up the vase, holding the flowers up to his nose and inhaling their sweet scent. _Feliciano,_ he thinks mournfully, _why did you do that? Why would you kill yourself? If you had a problem, you could have told me about it!_ Hurt flows through his veins instead of blood as he imagines his friend being bullied by someone, or being depressed about something. He can't even imagine what in his life he couldn't overcome with his overwhelming optimism.

Something soft falls across his forearm to the floor, causing him to look down. _A flower petal,_ he thinks to himself. Then:_ No, not a flower petal, a piece of paper! Another message from Feliciano!_ Ludwig carefully, carefully sets the vase back down on the table, then hurriedly bends down and picks up the scrap of paper.

** Bus stop**, speaks Feliciano from the grave. This time, Ludwig immediately knows what he means. _The bus stop where I first saw you._ Feliciano was not German like Ludwig and everyone else in the German village. No, he had moved here, to this picturesque, out of the way village, from Venice. Why he had moved from The City of Romance to this village, Ludwig never asked. He just knew that he was glad Feliciano had, because otherwise they never would have met.

_Okay, Feliciano. I will brave the snow and walk to the bus stop for you_. He thinks. What he won't let himself hear, though, is the undercurrent of that thought:_ I'll go there if you come back._

**Well, here's a Ludwig x Feliciano story for you people! I have to admit, GerIta is the only couple I will just sit and watch videos of. I'll read doujinshis of a couple others, but I'll just watch videos of fandrawings of these guys. They're so cute! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The bus stop is located on the far side of the village from Feliciano's barn, and so it is a cold, wet, miserable walk there, even if it's not far. Saying that the village is small is just a bit of an understatement; it's miniscule. You need a detailed map of the area to locate it, and most residents don't bother with cars, even in the winter, because you can usually walk to wherever you're going, and if you can't, there's always the bus. The bus is practically the only mode of transportation in the village. It is run 24/7, stopping at nearly every street in the winter. Ludwig briefly considers waiting at the nearest street corner, but he has no idea when the bus will arrive, and he might get pneumonia if he just stands there.

When he finally reaches the bus stop, numb with cold, he stops and stares, remembering the first time he saw Feliciano. Ludwig had been sent, as one of the five or so police officers in the village, to greet the newest arrival to town. He remembered thinking that it was strange that he would have to do this. They didn't normally have to do this, greet new arrivals. Then again, the only new arrivals were usually born in the hospital. It had been a rainy spring day, he remembered. He stood there, holding an umbrella above his head as he waited for the bus coming from one of the neighboring towns-a town with an airport-to bring Feliciano. When the bus had finally shown up, after ten minutes of waiting, Feliciano had gotten off with nothing to his name but a small carry-on bag and a happy smile.

The bus pulls up beside him, jerking him out of his reverie. The doors open and the bus driver, an old man Ludwig has never seen before, asks if he needs a ride.

"No," he answers, voice croaking from disuse. He clears his throat before continuing. "Just... looking for someone-something." he corrects, eyes burning for a moment.

"Is your name... Ludwig, by any chance?" the old man asks slowly.

Ludwig tries to hide his surprise. "Yes. Yes it is. How did you know?"

"About two days ago a happy young fellow came to me and asked me to give a man named Ludwig this piece of paper. Said he would come today or tomorrow." The old man gets down from his seat and hands Ludwig a small, folded piece of paper. Ludwig's first instinct is to grab the piece of paper and read what's on it, but before he does he politely tells the old man thank you. Then he walks to the bus stop-a rather small building with heating and a machine to buy bus tickets-and, trembling with excitement (and probably cold), unfolds the paper.

**Your bedroom** is written on the paper. Ludwig feels heat rise to his face. He remembers that night clear as day, and he is embarrassed to admit that he hadn't had anything at all to drink that night. Something had come over him and, fevered and frenzied, he had done exactly what he never thought he'd do again... and Feliciano had let him. In fact, he'd... reciprocated, in a most pleasurable fashion, though Ludwig wouldn't admit this fact to anyone else, ever.

Sighing mournfully, Ludwig leaves the bus stop and it's warmth. Preparing himself for the walk to his house, Ludwig looks up to see the bus still sitting there. He walks over, already shivering, and knocks on the door of the bus. It opens up and the bus driver asks again if he needs a ride. This time Ludwig nods, shivering, and takes the two steps into the bus. "Can you take me to 1st street, please?" he asks pathetically, colder than he's ever been in his life. The bus driver gives him a nod. Ludwig tries to hand him some money, but the bus driver shakes his head.

"The fellow who came here before, he payed for your ticket already."

"How did-? Why would-?" Ludwig can't finish his questions, because he doesn't even know what they are.

The bus driver shrugs. "I dunno." He presses the gas pedal and turns to the right, towards 1st street and Ludwig's house.

_"Luddy, Luddy!" Feliciano cried as he ran across the flower-filled meadow towards Ludwig. "Luddy, I'm so happy to see you here!" Ludwig could feel his face heating up._

_ "Feliciano, I told you I would come." Ludwig said stiffly, coughing to cover his blush._

_ Feliciano smiled brightly at him, sunny countenance so infectious that Ludwig felt like laughing out loud. "I know, but I can still be happy about it!"_

_ Ludwig smiled back at Feliciano, and as he did, the scenery changed. The meadow faded to the roiling black waves that could be seen over the edge of The Cliff. Ludwig watched in horror as the smile fell from Feliciano's face, replaced by an empty, gray expression._

_ "You didn't stop me. You couldn't save me." Feliciano intoned. Ludwig watched in horror as the ground seemed to disappear beneath Feliciano's face and he fell backwards into the cold, dark waves, swallowed whole by darkness. "You couldn't save me." seems to echo around Ludwig as Feliciano falls..._

"We're here." says the bus driver as Ludwig's eyes snap open. It takes Ludwig a moment to realize where he ias, what he is doing. The dream lingers behind his eyelids, though he can't remember what had happened in it.

"Thank you," Ludwig mumbles, shaken. He gets to his feet, swaying slightly with sleep, then walks down the steps and out into the cold, wrapping his coat more tightly around himself. He walks up the path to his small, one-bedroom house, fumbling with the keys in his pocket before unlocking the door. Stepping inside, he is met with a wave of cold. Cursing to himself under his breath, he goes to the thermostat and turns on the heat, chilled to the bone. He shrugs off his coat and hangs it in the coat closet, grabs a pair of jeans and the tight black t-shirt he wore whenever he had gone to Feliciano's house (he wouldn't mourn it if they got paint-stains on them) and walks to the bathroom, undressing and stepping into the shower. He turns the water on all the way and lets it fall over his face and body, searing his skin, searing away the hurt.

_ Why did you do it?_ It's still the only thought on his mind, still the only thing he can think after hearing about Feliciano's suicide. _Why? Was it because of that night?_ That night. The night mentioned on the slip of paper lying on the counter next to the sink. That night, that horrible, wonderful, tantalizing night.

He's glad the water hides the tears flowing down his cheeks.

When he is finally done with his shower, he steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. His skin is pink and raw from the heat of the water, but he has stopped feeling it. He has stopped feeling anything but a burning desire to know why Feliciano did it.

He dresses himself, throwing the towel around his broad shoulders to stop water from his hair dripping onto his t-shirt. For once, his hair isn't slicked back; instead, it's falling into his eyes. He doesn't feel like slicking it back again. He doesn't even feel like brushing it out of his eyes.

He walks from the bathroom, shivering as the colder air from outside the room hits him. He covers his hair with the towel as he walks towards the place mentioned on the slip of paper: his bedroom, where he and Feliciano had spent the night together.

**A/N HOLY CRAP! It's SO HARD to stay in present-tense! I'm sorry if there are any time I used past-tense in here, I didn't mean to. I usually write first-person present-tense and third-person past-tense, so this is weird... I slip in and out of it. I feel ashamed now that I told someone on FictionPress to focus on keeping with their tense... I'M SORRY!**

**Anyways, enjoy this chapter, eh? *smile smile***

**(P.S. I'm so sorry that the part after the flashback wasn't in present-tense! Didn't even notice until I was reviewing it-ack, I'm a dipshit. Anyways, enjoy! :D :D)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

He quickly searches his bedroom, trying as hard as he can to focus on the search and not the memories struggling to resurface. It takes him at least half an hour to find it, underneath his pillow. When he does, he stares at it for a moment, wondering how exactly Feliciano put it there. Feliciano had committed suicide the day before, and the day before that was when he had left all the slips of paper. That was also Ludwig's day off, which he had spent at home. All day.

Shaking his head to clear it (and trying to fight down a blush), Ludwig reaches out and picks up the piece of paper, excitement coursing through him as he wonders what it will say. Will this one hold the answer? He isn't even sure if these papers will lead him to answers, but he hopes that they will. He hopes so hard his heart hurts.

**The cafe** is written on this piece of paper. Ludwig's heart sinks as he realizes that no, this paper does not hold the answers, only another clue. He stands up, back straight, then goes to the coat closet to get his coat once more. If the paper only holds another clue, then he will go where it takes him, even if it kills him.

As he steps outside, the cold hits him like a punch in the stomach. If this weren't the most important thing that had ever happened to him in his life, he would've turned tail and stayed inside until morning. He walks down the path and turns left on the sidewalk, the direction of the cafe. As he walks he remembers all the times he and Feliciano had spent there together, drinking coffee and hanging out, enjoying each other's company. _While it lasted_. Ludwig thinks sadly to himself.

The cafe is nothing more than a small two-story house that had the bottom floor and covered patio renovated and turned into a place for people to sit and eat homemade pastries and original hot drink recipes. Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hot milk, slices of cake, cupcakes, chocolate of every shape and size, it's heaven for anyone who needs an extra boost of energy, and it too is open all night, because one of the owners is a notorious night-owl who never wakes up during the day, unless she has to go to something important, like a wedding. Or a funeral.

Ludwig pushes open the door, a little bell tinkling as he walks in. The warmth hits him like someone has thrown a pile of warm blankets on top of him, and he stands still for a moment, eyes closed, enjoying it. Then he walks to the counter towards the back of the room.

"Hello," he says to the woman sitting behind the counter, reading a book. "I was wondering if, a couple days ago, a young man named Feliciano left a note with you." The woman looks up from her book so that she can study him, then nods.

"Ludwig, correct?" she asks. Her voice is so perfect for sarcasm that Ludwig stares at her for a moment before answering.

"Yes, I am Ludwig."

"Then I'll go get your order for you. It's already payed for, don't worry." She walks through the door into the kitchen to get his order. Ludwig briefly wonders what it is, hoping it's nothing too sweet. Feliciano always had a soft spot for sweets, and if he ordered for Ludwig, who knows what it could be.

"Here's your order then," the woman says when she comes back out. "Espresso, cream, no sugar, and a scone, no icing." She hands him the food and Ludwig takes it, touched. Feliciano had remembered his order.

"Latte, lots of sugar, sweetest pastry you have." he mumbles under his breath.

"What was that?" asks the woman.

Ludwig looks up, embarrassed. "'Latte, lots of sugar, sweetest pastry you have.'" he answers. "That's what my friend always ordered here when we came." The woman nods her approval.

"That's what you were supposed to say," she says. She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out yet another piece of folded paper, placing it on the plate that holds his scone. She smiles at him. "You passed the test."

"Thank you," Ludwig says, touched.

"You're welcome," she says, and smiles. For a moment, Ludwig projects Feliciano's face onto hers. Then he gently shakes his head, moving to a table to eat his scone and read the note.

**The Cliff** says the note, and Ludwig's heart nearly stops. The Cliff, where Feliciano killed himself. The Cliff, where he needs to go now. He takes a strangely steeling bite of pastry, then stands up, glad his coffee is in a to-go cup. He leaves the cafe as fast as he can, holding his coffee in both hands to keep them warm. He walks all the way to The Cliff, barely noticing the cold anymore. He feels like, after what's happened, he must be as cold as the wind to have not noticed a reason for Feliciano's suicide.

Ludwig reaches The Cliff quickly, then stops, not knowing what exactly to do now. There won't be another note, not in this snow. So... what could be here? He takes an absentminded sip of his coffee, realizing that it's gone. He drank it all on the way over. He tucks the cup into his pocket, walking slowly forward, towards the edge of the cliff. He looks down into the darkness. It's too dark to see properly, but he can imagine how the waves must look, beating down upon the rocks, slowly eating away at them. He imagines how it must have felt to fall down this cliff, hitting the sides on the way down. Had Feliciano died before he hit the water, or had he drowned?

Footsteps come from behind him and Ludwig whirls around, afraid of what he will see. His eyes widen in shock and wonder at the man standing in front of him, light brown hair, small smile, one strange, curly strand of hair.

"A-are you a ghost?" he asks, when he regains his voice. The man looks at him kindly, face full of an emotion Ludwig can't quite identify.

"No," Feliciano says. "I'm not."

"Then how are you here?" Ludwig asks, breath fogging up in front of him.

"I never died." Feliciano smiles at him. "I would never leave you, Ludwig."

"Then... why did you do this?" A lump as formed in Ludwig's throat, and it's hard to speak around it.

"So that you would understand." Feliciano says. "I love you, Ludwig. I have since the first time I saw you." Ludwig walks forward until he is standing right in front of Feliciano. He stares at him for a moment, eyes caressing the face that he thought he'd never see again. Feliciano looks back at him, waiting. Ludwig reaches out a hand and trails his fingers down Feliciano's face.

"I thought you were dead," he whispers. "I thought you'd killed yourself... because of me." Feliciano says nothing, just looks at him. Suddenly Ludwig reaches forward, grabbing Feliciano and pulling him into a kiss. He pulls away so he can speak. "Don't ever do that again." he orders.

"I won't." Feliciano answers. He kisses him again.

** . . .**

Ludwig wakes up in his bed the next morning with his arms wrapped around Feliciano. This is the third time this has happened, and he knows it's not the last. After what happened the night before, Ludwig knows that he's going to keep Feliciano as close to him as possible, no matter what the other people in the village say. He moves in closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around Feliciano.

"I love you," he whispers as the sun rises outside.

"I love you too." Feliciano whispers back.

**A/N Yay, an ending! Sure, the whole thing's only three chapters long, but whatever, it's pretty cute. (If I do say so myself!) :3 Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! :D :D**

**Oh yeah, I've just decided to tell everyone if I edited my works or not and, as far as I can remember, I didn't edit this at all, really. Well, a little bit on FanFiction, you know, to get what needed italic-izing italic, and I looked up, like, "passive verb" or some such thing, but I didn't pay it any mind. So, yeah. I edited this is no way. XD Bwahaha! I'm probably a genius now, right? XD *major Prussian, obviously***


	4. Small Song (Not A Chappie!)

**A/N So, this is just a song I wrote that doesn't have anything to do with the story. I'll explain at the bottom.**

* * *

I, will stand outside your house

even if it rains

And I, will never leave until you deign to

speak with me

Oh I, will not just let you go like this,

And I, will stand outside-

* * *

I know I've made some mistakes and

I know I've done some wrong,

But darling I don't want this to end like this.

I know I'm done some shit, and I probably

made you cry

But darling I don't want this to end like this.

* * *

I know you don't believe me...

But I do have a kind streak...

And I know it won't make you feel better...

But I'm a stubborn asshole and I swear that I will

Stay outside until the bitter end.

* * *

**A/N Okay, so I'm reading this book called "Boy Meets Boy" by David Levithan, and it's SUPER GOOD. It's short- I'm halfway through and I only started a couple hours ago -but it's beautiful, and there's this one part where the boy, Paul, is trying to fix things up with another boy and he just screws things up, and then he just leaves. And I realized that... if I were him, I would, quite literally, sit outside that house, stewing in my stubborn anger, until the person I was waiting for deigned to speak to me, and then this song just came to me. Well, actually, the words "I'm a stubborn asshole and I'll stay outside" came to me, and then this song was born. By the way, it doesn't really have a melody- well, it does, but I won't remember it -so if you want to assign it a melody, I'm fine with that, but please, if you use it for anything, at least say that you got it from me, okay? I don't exactly want a song of mine stolen, because I WILL get pissed.**

**Anyways, that is all. *bows***


End file.
